


is your world just a broken promise

by herwhiteknight



Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst, F/F, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Maiden Yang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27033628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herwhiteknight/pseuds/herwhiteknight
Summary: "Yang... your eyes," Blake says, slow. Careful. Scared."My eyes?" she asks, dread forming, curling, sloughing from her shoulders in waves. She knows what Blake’s going to say now. She thinks that she knew it right from the moment she woke up to the sound of rain in the middle of the desert.
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long, Raven Branwen & Yang Xiao Long
Comments: 11
Kudos: 156





	is your world just a broken promise

**Author's Note:**

> my friend asked me to write some good ol' yangst for the soul -- specifically raven&yang related angst. so of course.... maiden!yang was basically a gimmie. enjoy!

It’s raining when Yang finds out that Raven has died. Nothing changes. She hears no different, sees no different, feels no different. She wouldn’t have known at all were it not for the fact that when she woke up to the sound of rain hammering against against the tarp of their tent, her eyes were burning. A horrible, horrible stinging kind of burning.

“It doesn’t rain like this in Vacuo, does it?” That’s Blake. Blake is off to her left, her warm body slipping away from her as she sits up, turns her attention to Velvet. Velvet who is standing, sticking her head out of the flap for a brief moment to assess the situation.

“Sometimes,” Coco answers for her, pulling her back in and looking wary. Her hand has settled on the handle of her weapon. “But not like this. Not that I remember.”

Everyone’s on high alert, bags are packed in a rushed scramble, weapons are drawn. Except Yang doesn’t move. Her limbs feel like lead, all tied to a heart that’s barely beating. Something’s wrong, but she doesn’t know what.

“Yang?” Blake’s hand touches her shoulder softly, and it shakes her awake, just a little. “Is something wrong, love?”

Yang lifts her hand to Blake’s, covering her hand just to make sure that it’s _there_ , and tries to breathe. Can’t form words. She just shakes her head.

Blake kneels down immediately, and Yang catches sight of the concern dancing in her eyes for a just a moment before Blake cuts herself off with a gasp. “Is there something - _Yang_.” Everyone in the space whirls at the sudden noise, weapons bristling. Blake just stills. And stares. “Your eyes…”

Yang forces herself to blink - that burning sting growing worse, almost unbearable. “My eyes?” she asks, dread forming, curling, sloughing from her shoulders in waves. She knows what Blake’s going to say now. She thinks that she knew it right from the moment she woke up to the sound of rain in the middle of the desert.

“ _Raven_ ,” Blake whispers, grasping onto Yang’s forearms like she can anchor her down. And she can. She _does_. “I’m so sorry….”

The rest of them stand around, confused and uncertain. She’d never told them. She’d never told any of them. Except Blake. Her rock, her anchor. The core of her world. The only thing that keeps her from imploding, from damaging everything she touches.

Instead she just falls to the ground, collapses, shakes herself apart. She remembers nothing else, feels nothing else. The only thing she knows is the sound of the rain growing ever louder, louder. Until it swallows her whole. 

  
  
  


Yang sees her in her dreams - when sleep finally comes, that is.

“You should’ve been a better mother,” she spits out before Raven even has a chance to materialize fully in front of her, before anything about the dream has a chance to make any sort of sense. But it doesn’t - nothing about it makes sense. And Raven never gets close, never becomes clear. It’s just blackness, an inky blackness that’s too reminiscent of feathers, and a shadow of a mother who never deserved that title after all.

“Does it matter?” Raven asks her, and her lip is lifted in a sneer. Just like Yang remembers her. Everything is how she’s always remembered. The mother who left, who didn’t care, who acted so selfishly that her own daughter had to pick up the slack. In a way, Yang was just as good of a caretaker of her own self as Raven had been of her.

“Of _course_ it fucking matters!” Yang shouts, trying to step forward, but she’s rooted. Even in this dream she can’t fucking move closer. It’s just like she remembers.

“You’re right,” Raven eventually says, and its soft and gentle and everything she _should_ have been. And Yang hates it. “I never loved you the way I should have. That’s why I left you behind - I knew I would never be good enough for you. I knew it wouldn’t be fair.”

“You were just selfish! Like you always are. The way you always have been.” Yang forces her eyes away, squeezes them shut so desperately. _Let me wake up. Let me wake up._ Even in her dreams she can’t control the fact that Raven Branwen only ever cared about herself. _Let me wake up!_

“I did this for you, Yang,” she says, holding out her hand as a single inky black feather drops into her palm. “The one thing I could do to protect you. I’m sorry.”

The moment she disappears, Yang wakes up with a broken gasp, her whole body tumbling to the floor. Blake is there with her in an instant, wrapping her arms around her body and cradling her close. Outside, the rain renewed in its intensity. It hadn’t stopped since Yang became the Spring Maiden. Since she learned of Raven’s death. Her sacrifice.

“I’m here, Yang. I’m right here,” Blake murmurs, her voice a soft reassuring rush of air against her hair, her breath warm against her ear. “I’ve got you, dearest.”  
  
“Why couldn’t she just _stay_?” she clenches her fists tight, one of them folding around a single black feather. Everything she has left of her now. "Why wasn't I _enough_ for her?"


End file.
